


sun valley ranch

by trixiesmattel



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Cult AU, Drug Use, F/F, set in the late 60s, summer of love vibes, you know the one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixiesmattel/pseuds/trixiesmattel
Summary: the summer of love left a profound impact on california - society was now a vast kaleidoscope of lsd induced fervour. middle class women fell susceptible to the reigns of the free love moment, under the guise of one leader in particular who had extremely questionable motives.trixie meets a bright eyed platinum blonde who introduces her to a 'family' where love knows no bounds.
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	1. endless summer.

**Author's Note:**

> **major disclaimer**  
>  as you may have guessed by the tags and summary, this fic is based on the manson cult. i do not wish to glamourise that deeply disturbing case whatsoever, nor will this fic include a lot of what actually happened and the motives behind those murders. i have taken inspiration from the era, and subject matter, but for obvious reasons, names will be changed as well as a lack of drag race queens in replacement for a few original characters.  
> this creation is a culmination of the aesthetics used in 'once upon a time...in hollywood', as well as a number of fictional books set in 1969.  
> this fic will contain questionable content, including drug use. i will post particular trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters that need it.
> 
> *
> 
> okay, hello my loves.
> 
> this is something i've been working on for a little while on and off. it's my ultimate labour of love and the thing that i just keep gravitating towards writing when i get tired of the other fics i'm working on. i truly am very proud of this one. i hope y'all will love it too.
> 
> a massive thank you to my first ever beta, prettyladybighair. i don't tell you enough that i love you bc sometimes you're stinky, but i really do love you.  
> she has an amazing trixya fic that she's currently working on as well, so please check it out here on ao3.
> 
> tumblr: [iqkittygirl](https://iqkittygirl.tumblr.com/)

Freckles peppered Trixie’s shoulders as she idly peeled the three-day-old sunburn from her skin – flakes peeling to the grass below. She rarely wore spaghetti strap tops, her chest was too heavy for them, and had to resign herself to wearing a bra. The elastic over her shoulders irritated her; the hot pink lace clashing with the earthy floral tones of her shirt, throwing off her worn out high waisted Daisy Duke shorts that dug into her supple thighs. She hated Summer. The film of sweat her skin produced made her eyeliner smudge to her lower lashes by the end of the day, creating a rim around her eyes that made her look tired.

Trixie was bored of California. She was jaded by her own routine; work at the diner four days a week, come home, touch herself, cook dinner, then on her off days she’d venture to the park nearby her apartment, or the beach – nothing more, nothing less. She had succumbed to the mundane, despite expecting the extraordinary out of 24 plain hours in a day.

Her aesthetic wasn’t ‘cookie-cutter’, but she was most definitely a stereotype.

A book teetered on her lap, pages wilting from the heat as the cover clung to her skin unforgivingly. She reached for the can of iced tea by her side – her good girl persona only tainted by the vice of sugar. The book was a prop, when really her favourite pastime was watching the people who frequented the same park. There were strangers who prioritised exercise, only offering a small smile on their run, but there were also groups of people who Trixie had come to recognise day after day.

However, there was a particular cluster who had caught her attention this afternoon. Their attires all varied as if they had raided a thrift shop and missed the memo on wearing shoes in public – the soles of their feet dirtied by the ground they walked on. A few of the women had dark hair peeking out from the underarms of their torn shift dresses – Trixie wondered if it was a defiance on societal female norms or if they were just taught no differently. There were four of them, and they looked not just like a pack, but a family despite no relation to one another whatsoever. One woman in particular had garnered her attention. A manic blonde who seemed stifled by her friends. Her bangs were so long that they obstructed her vision, comically brushing them away thrice a minute. She wore a knitted crochet dress that drowned her figure somewhat in a clash of creams, purples and blues. The rest of her long hair had matted into a formation of natural curls. There was something so captivating about her aura, and Trixie couldn’t help but wonder if the spiritual bullshit of positive energy was maybe not such a lie at all.

One of them was bent over a park trash can, rummaging through with the dirt-ridden heels of her feet dangling upwards as she leveraged herself on the rusted metal. She was rummaging for something, her dirty blonde hair getting caught in her features. Trixie noted that this woman had snagged a win, a half-eaten chocolate bar that she continued to finish nonchalantly. They were looking around as if they were analysing everyone in their close proximity. The eyes of the messy blonde in the crochet dress landed upon Trixie, and she quickly flicked her attention down to the pages to avoid her gaze. Staring was rude, and the last thing she wanted to do was come off as aloof.

In her peripheral vision, she could see the platinum blonde making her way over; her figure growing bigger as the distance closed between them. Trixie swore she had read the same sentence over and over, her acting falling extremely short of Oscar-worthy.

“Hey Barbie, are you done with your drink?” Her voice was slightly husky, as if it had been burnt out by years of chain smoking.

She peered up, squinting slightly as the sun glinted her gaze, casting a faint halo around the woman’s head. This person had come on strong – no introduction, just an outright question. Trixie’s first impression branded this woman as ‘rude’. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the small creases around her eyes. The stranger looked a few years older than Trixie’s meagre 24 years. The only consolation was the nickname she’d used, and even then, it was a scarce redemption.

“No.” She said plainly.

“Care to share then?”

‘What kind of heathen would share a stranger's drink?’ she thought to herself. Maybe Trixie was too sheltered, but her curiosity put her thoughts at an internal debate. Admittedly, she’d only consumed half the can, and for some reason unbeknownst to herself, she wanted this woman to like her – a cool illusion of grandeur she was desperate to cling on to.

She picked up the aluminium, handing it upwards towards the woman.

“Just take it.” Trixie shrugged it off.

“Thanks, angel.” She took the drink in her left hand, holding out her right. “I’m Katya.”

Trixie noted the dirt underneath her short nails and pondered whether or not she even wanted to complete the gesture considering her friend just been diving in trash a minute ago.

“Beatrice.” She nodded once, shielding the sun from her face with her other hand so she could get a proper judgement on this woman. She looked nice enough, but just extremely out of place. “But people just call me Trixie.”

“ _Trixie_ ,” The name rolled off her tongue as if she was savouring the taste. “I like it.” She took a sip from the beverage, her throat bobbing as she swallowed, a small bead of sweat following suit. “Jamison would like it too.”

Before she could pipe up again, the girl’s friends had joined her. The dirty blonde who had been rummaging in the trash now wound her arms around Katya, chocolate bar wrapper still in her hand. There was another woman who was bubbly, and just as inquisitive about Trixie – she would later find out her nickname ‘Juju’ wasn’t far off her birth name. The fourth woman was all legs and had long black hair cascading down her waist. They were gorgeous in their own right, but so very unusually attractive by Californian standards.

“You don’t think Jamie would think she’s too clean cut?” The tallest one piped up.

“C’mon Naomi, let’s not judge.” Katya hushed her. “Think of all you’ve been taught. Don’t let Miss Trixie here erase all that.”

“You’re right,” Naomi took a deep breath, with an even longer exhale. “Kindness is key.”

Trixie was completely bewildered – Naomi hadn’t even said anything insulting. These women acted like they were completely hyped up by-products of the ‘new age’ movement, focusing on only eating clean food to keep their bodies pure. Yet that didn’t seem to hit the nail on the head for her whatsoever. There was something about them that she was so unsure of.

“She would love Jamison,” Juju spoke, turning the conversation to third person as if Trixie wasn’t sitting right in front of them, slack jawed. “He would love her.”

A breeze fell short, gently wafting their body odour towards her. Aside from the summertime smell of sweat, she also noticed a faint hint of nicotine that was curdled with the kiss of iced tea on Katya’s breath already.

The woman’s gaze was discerning, making Trixie nervous under her watch. There was something so calculated about the way Katya’s glassy hues drank in the sight of this honey blonde despite her friends’ distractions. She shifted uncomfortably, the grass chafing the back of her thighs, causing her skin to itch.

“Just look at her,” One spoke. “She looks like everything pure in the world. You know how he _loves_ that.”

“Willam –” Katya arched her brow.

“Bet you taste like cherry pie.” The woman continued with a wink.

The platinum blonde held her hand up, immediately shutting the other woman up. Trixie could feel her heart throttling the inside of her ribcage. No one had ever been so forward with her, let alone upon their first meeting. She was unsure if she enjoyed it – selfishly, part of her enjoyed the attention because it was so unlike the absent glances she got on a daily basis. This all felt far more potent.

The girls continued their playfulness, but Trixie only watched Katya; her smooth mannerisms as she took another sip from the can.

“Who’s Jamison?” Her voice shook only slightly, but enough for her to conceal her anxieties.

Three girls gasped, and Katya chewed her lower lip, tilting her head to the side.

“A Saviour of sorts,” She replied. “Helps people find their way back to the light. Uses song and the community to help piece together the fucked up puzzle that is this world.”

The ‘flower-power’ era was no stranger to this propaganda. Each day there were multiple promises of juice cleanses that would re-program your spirit to its highest good, crystal grids that helped you manifest your truest desires and wheatgrass that guaranteed purifying your liver from the early 60’s frenzied partying. The notion of a man attempting to be a new messiah was simply just a sign of the decade. People were desperate for guidance after growing up with strangling girdles and modest skirts – they craved the freedom of the unknown and potential for a better tomorrow.

Trixie wasn’t desperate to ‘find the light’, but rather she was uninterested with her routine. Her curiosity was fulfilled with this group, and she wanted to learn more not only about themselves, but where they lived and how they lived.

“Do you think I need to find the light?” She asked, question directed at Katya, who smirked slightly at the notion of needed input.

There was something hiding behind this woman’s eyes – a distant weariness that inadvertently gave Trixie a warning. She brushed it off as nothing. These people seemed like nothing but harmless hippies.

Something shifted in the platinum blonde, and she raised her now empty can of iced tea towards Trixie.

“I think you’re on the right path, regardless of us.” Katya acknowledged, giving her a nod. “See ya ‘round, Trixie.”

Before she could even raise her hand to wave, the girls were off skipping over the expanse of parkland and across the street to a graffitied kombi van that looked like it was 10 miles from breaking down. They piled in and zoomed off in an instant. Trixie was left completely bewildered as if the scene had all been a mirage brought on by the Summer heat.

She scratched the back of her neck out of confusion, as her eyes wandered the park for any clarification from others about the situation. But it was just her – no one had bothered enough to pay attention. It was the Summer of love; people had better things to do rather than keep an eye out for a lonely girl in the park.

Her mouth was dry, suddenly desperate for her long-gone can of iced tea to quench her thirst. Instead, her hands busied themselves, pulling up the daisy weeds that infested the grassland like the most beautiful plague – yellow speckles dotted all throughout the green. She toyed with the petals, mercilessly pulling them off as she sifted through her thoughts of what had just happened.

Those women weren’t from around here, that was for sure – they didn’t seem like city slickers or suburban zombies. They were their own breed, free to be whoever they chose. Being a hippie in this day and age was not uncommon, but they seemed even beyond that with their universal wavelength progressing far further than those that Trixie had ever come to know. She had gauged all of that from their brief interaction, and more importantly, from this woman named Katya.

* * *

Trixie’s feet were slightly swollen from the heat, and now the mix of cheap gin and tonic that she’d resorted to in order to cool down from the brunt of her day. The bubbles cleared her sinuses, giving a refreshing zing as Petula Clark bounced off of the walls of her small apartment, clashing with the tinny sound of the newsreader blaring on a miniscule television that worked only if the antenna had been exacted to the perfect angle. She hadn’t earned enough money to get herself one of those fancy colour toned systems, so the anchor spoke to her in a static black and white.

The gentle hum of the evening’s alcohol was starting to buzz Trixie’s brain with a pleasant blur. There was no hazard to be aware of; she was home alone, repeating the day’s events with pervasive spectatorship. The replay was just as warm and bright as the actual event, with a certain sense of sunshine radiating off of the girls, and more importantly Katya. For now, she dreaded that dry soberness that accompanied the come down of alcohol – a depressing form of anticipation that left little to the imagination other than the brittle lack of dopamine. But in this second, she’d marvel in the miraculously glowing memories of the platinum blonde she’d met at the park.

Her slightly scratchy low thread count sheets became softer by the second as the woman’s toes pried between the blanket. Trixie’s eyes fluttered closed, the faint flow of pleasure creeping in, as her fingertips travelled down her soft torso, past her stomach and to the hem of her underwear. Her fingertips glided over the faint indentation left from the elastic, begging release from her skin. The sound of her breath hitching as her fingers found her own core, skimming the sweet spot that was so sensitive.

Her mind flashed through a rolodex of famous men that she fancied; Elvis Presley, Paul McCartney and Bob Dylan. Musicians seemed to hold a very safe place in her heart, purely because of the commonality of her deepest desires to become one, despite working at a diner. No matter how hard she tried to sift through images of those men, women would follow; Barbara Eden, Nancy Sinatra, Jane Fonda…the list was endless. It was as if her mind was always coaxed back to the prospect of the female gaze. She wasn’t ever mad at herself for it, and the whole ‘free love’ notion had made her feel much more valid in her self discovery. She loved people in general, no matter how they identified, and the idea was becoming more and more normal. In practice though, she was unsure. Sexually, she had never been with a woman, but she refused to let that dampen her confidence.

She was comfortable within herself, whilst exploring the images of the female figure in mind. But today, she had a new addition to her metaphorical collection. Her fantasy involved the platinum blonde at the park – the way her messy waves clung to the sweat on her neck, her tanned skin glistening with a Summer glow that made her eyes stand out even more. She looked like the poster girl for the 60's. The image of her alone sent Trixie over the edge, her back arching as a pleasurable gasp escaped her lips.

She settled back against the mattress, her long blonde hair now mussed from the friction between herself and the pillow. The blur of her thoughts still centred on this stranger, and how desperately she wanted to see her again. The whole group itself had made Trixie entirely curious about the world they had become involved in.

The sweltering heat drove her out of bed, sliding her pair of shorts back over her hips, zipping high above her belly button. She padded her way back to the kitchen, her hair messier than usual, but she blamed it on the weather. Opening the fridge door, she pulled a jug of ice-cold water, pouring it out into a repurposed jam jar, adorning it with a slice of lemon to add to the flavour. One sip in, the shrill ring of her landline sounded the entire kitchen, bouncing off the gaudy white and mint toned linoleum.

She rarely got calls; usually check-ins from her parents in San Francisco, or from when she dated a nice man named Paul, she’d spent hours leaning against her countertop, twirling the kinked wire between her fingers. Other than that, she very much kept to herself, but that’s how she liked it. She enjoyed her own space to do whatever she wanted – it got lonely sometimes, but she had a knack for keeping herself busy with a few strums of the guitar, painting her nails with a fresh coat of powder pink varnish, or dancing around to her prized collection of records.

Picking up, she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder, her curls getting caught between momentarily before she pulled them free.

“Hello?”

“Beatrice, honey!” Her mother’s high-pitched voice sounded with somewhat of a squeal. “Oh, I called to tell you, Phil and I just read about something in the paper about crystal healing, didn’t we sweetie?” Her father’s measly grunt could be heard from the other end of the phone. “Honey I feel like you’d benefit from, oh goodness, what was it – ” Pages flipped. “Rose quartz. On your heart chakra. It opens up your heart space and invites prospective lovers into your life.”

Her mother always garnered these strange fixations, looking for the next best solution for any ailments. Californians were extremely focused on homeopathic and natural options, which was heavily influenced by the metaphysical realm with absolutely no scientific research whatsoever.

“What the hell is my heart chakra?” Trixie glanced down at her own chest, searching for her heart-space but only receiving an eyeful of her breasts.

“Honeybee, this will be so great for you, I’ll mail you this article,” Her mother, Val, continued. “I know after things with Paul, you probably haven’t met anyone as neato as him.”

Trixie pouted, aimlessly digging her short fingernails into the edge of her countertop, the surface beginning to bubble slightly in the heat and lift from her pressure. It was true about Paul – she hadn’t really met anyone like him, but she wasn’t going to continue dating someone she didn’t entirely vibe with.

“Mom, am I uptight?” She asked, remembering the ‘cookie-cutter’ comment from one of the girl’s in the park earlier that day.

“What makes you say that?” She could hear the faint hint of sadness in her voice. “You’re the grooviest Barbie doll I ever did see. Better than Barbie, really.”

Trixie’s parents lived just off Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco, always trying to uplift their comfortable middle-class life with the next best thing in alternative medicine, and music from musicians who created songs whilst on drug induced trips. They were doing their best to keep up with the times.

“I think I’m just buggin’ out a little bit.” Trixie sighed.

“This is why you need some rose quartz. Lay down on the ground with it on your chest for ten minutes every morning when you wake up.”

“I’m just supposed to…lay there? With a rock on my chest?”

“It’s a crystal, Beatrice. It’ll emit that positive energy, draw in love, raise your vibration.” Val huffed at her daughter’s scepticism.

“Am I meant to think of anything?”

There was a pause as her mother obviously scanned the pages for answers, despite coming up short.

“Y’know, I don’t know. The perfect partner, maybe?”

“That seems totally vague,” Trixie sighed. “Right, where do I get these magical rocks.”

“Crystals!” She corrected her once more. “It says here markets are your best option. You gotta pick up the crystal and make sure you vibe with it.”

“How do I know if I’m _vibing_ with it?”

“Beatrice, I don’t know! You’ll just know.” Her mother was flustered being asked so many questions about her bright idea. She got flustered easily like this whenever her ideals were interrogated. “I have to go cook dinner, lentil stew, they say meat isn’t good for you anymore – hormones and what not, talk soon honeybee!”

The receiver hung up before Trixie even got the chance to say goodbye. Her mother was constantly focused on improving her daughter’s life, despite the Barbie’s defiant nature. At the end of the day, she wanted to make her parents proud, but they also rarely ever called, unless they had information like this to pass along – which was about once a month at best.

She had the morning free tomorrow preceding her afternoon shift at the diner, and although she didn’t believe in this form of supposed energy transmission, it gave her something to do. There was a certain ease walking through a market, regardless of now having the aim of hunting down a rock that attracted love. She’d seen these stalls that sold crystals, and somehow she knew she would have to muster up the courage to at least ask for help since she had no idea what she was searching for.

There was something so pathetic about Trixie having to revert to the superficial ‘supposed energies’ from a mineral. Love was never outwardly sought after for her – she enjoyed her time alone, and yet, here she was barefoot in her kitchen considering turning the power of desire over to the universe. It seemed silly; a figment of hope that people would reside to the fact that it brought someone into their life, believing the crystal’s powers to be true. Somehow the idea perfectly reflected the hippie era without a doubt of reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are we feeling about this fic so far?


	2. bite the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my loves!
> 
> i know i have other fics to work on, like the epilogue of htd and tbab, but i couldn't resist writing svr some more. just a little update on my writing.......please don't expect regular weekly updates or anything because uh, your girl got a promotion!! i have quite long work weeks now, but i know i'll come home and write as much as i can at the end of the day. 
> 
> i hope y'all are enjoying so far!
> 
> tumblr: @iqkittygirl
> 
> love you xx

Farmers markets were commonplace, but those of the craft and items of the metaphysical sort were slightly more difficult to come by. Stalls like that usually scattered the edges of the more everyday outlets, like the raw side of a paper that had just been torn in half – a mystical underbelly of California’s new age movement. Ten years ago, such stores wouldn’t even get a second glance from passers-by. Society had delved headfirst into the universe that was hippie culture, and today, Trixie was dipping her toes into the lake itself. 

She’d picked up a few bits and pieces for the week, mainly just a top up of fruits and vegetables. By this time, she had worked up the courage to walk up to the small store she had passed on her way in; the table adorned with a variety of different crystals, all varying in size and colour. The woman behind the table had a spattering of red hair over her shoulders, expertly flicked up at the end from sleeping with a set of curlers in.

Trixie hiked her bag tighter over her shoulder as she closed the distance, the woman’s excited energy radiating off of her immediately. Initially, it made her sad to assume that there probably weren’t that many customers – but this was the late 60’s, people were desperate for this kind of thing right now.

“Hi, my sweetheart!” The woman cooed, her black lace dress snagging the ground as she stepped against the table. “May I help you find anything today?”

It was now that she realised the excitement was virtuously based in the joy of customer service for her. She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the reality of having a ‘pure aura’ – a concept she’d read about in a women’s magazine not long ago.

“I’m looking for –"

“Love,” The redhead spoke with finality, beating her to the punch. Trixie was slightly spooked that this woman guessed her desire so abruptly. She wondered if desperation dripped from her, the opposite of a woman who looked as if she just had sex with a branded mark of pride. She was a tired symbol of hopelessness – a complete juxtaposition to a woman on Sunset Strip doing a walk of shame with a twinkle in her eye. “I’m Jinkx.”

“Trixie.” She was sceptical. ‘Love’ wasn’t a difficult presumption – how many Angelino’s came to her every day with the wish for a prospective partner. “I’m supposed to pick up rose quartz or something…”

This woman had a glint in her eye as if she could see something that Trixie couldn’t. It wasn’t unnerving, in fact, it was slightly comforting. She felt vulnerable in an indescribable sense – layers peeling back for this woman’s foresight. It wasn’t like a man undressing her with their eyes, rather Jinkx was able to see even further beyond that.

“My dear, I’m going to tell you, with or without this stone, you will find love very soon.”

That comment rattled Trixie slightly – made her stomach churn with anticipation, but not the picture-perfect kind of butterflies that render themselves to the film-like stupor of love. She was admittedly curious as to who her next suitor was; she didn’t really know anyone at the moment. Sure, she had friends, but she was marginally distant with them, and truthfully wasn’t attracted to any. 

“Do you know when?” She was inquisitive, bordering on eager. But this was _her_ life, she was allowed to be.

“I can’t say exactly,” Jinkx added. “But sooner than you’d expect.”

Her eyes nervously flashed down to the stones that her mother had urged her to buy – their pink sheen creating almost iridescent rainbows in the Los Angeles sun, flashing small rainbows on to the table beneath them. They were beautiful little creations, and she couldn’t help but wonder if people purchased them purely for their aesthetics.

Trixie’s eyes captured the one that was smoothly polished into the shape of a heart. It was kitschy and cute, seemingly suiting her style perfectly. The centre of the crystal had a faint white smudge through it, creating a pearlescent effect that she instantly adored. It was a pretty little thing. 

“What am I supposed to do with them?” She picked up the one she had been admiring, turning it over in her fingers. “I’ve heard you just lay with it on your heart or something.”

“You can meditate with them, yes, that’s true,” The witchy one spoke. “It works best if you keep it on you at all times, maybe in your purse or in your pocket or bra all day. People usually opt for jewellery options though – it’s easier for them to harness the power that way, soak in the energy.”

That last statement was where Trixie felt slightly lost. She was still so unconvinced as to how this could possibly attract certain energies towards her. Jinkx handed her a ring with a small oval rose quartz setting.

“It’s my favourite piece, try it on.”

Trixie did, and the ring slipped on to her middle finger with ease. It was a perfect fit, so much so that it gave her chills. Maybe it was a futile sign from the universe telling her that this was going to bring her luck in love, or maybe she was just a complete sucker for the synchronicity blending with her fear of dying alone.

“How much for both?” She asked, wide eyed. 

“You can have both for free, I don’t mind,” Jinkx admitted, waving her hand. “They were meant for you.”

She ignored her completely, reaching into her wallet to pull out a twenty-dollar bill. Her gesture was sweet, but Trixie always believed in paying her way. She was an honest girl.

* * *

She clutched the dark grey trash bag as she kicked the door open, careful about not piercing the film so that the food scraps would stay contained. The door buckled with a creek upon her exit, the first Santa Ana winds of the season blowing her honey toned waves with hot air. She hauled the bag into the dumpster, catching the sound of slight whispers nearby.

As she dusted her hands off on her pale pink work dress, a uniform allocated by the manager that was adorned with a white trim and collar, her eyes scanned the area. There was no one in sight, but the voices had now turned to faint giggles. Stepping around the corner to the back of the building, she noticed a few familiar faces. One of which was taking a drag of a cigarette, with a teasing smirk playing on her lips.

“Who knew we had the same haunts, huh?” Katya exhaled upwards. Her dress was tattered with moth eaten bell sleeves. 

She recognised Juju and Willam, but they were accompanied by one entirely new woman.

“I work here,” Trixie prefaced. “It’s not a place I necessarily dig. I’ve never seen any of you dine here before.”

“Oh, we don’t.” Juju was brushing her wispy hair with her fingers. “This is like our grocery store.”

Katya then nodded back around the corner to where Trixie had come from, signalling to the two dumpsters that sat there. Money must’ve been an issue for them if they were getting their food from other people’s scraps. The notion of cleanliness and dietary hygiene worried her, but that was just Trixie’s privilege infiltrating her thoughts. She wasn’t exactly well off, yet she always had money to buy even the heavily discounted food at the store. 

“You mean you…” She tried to clarify her thoughts, but the words weren’t coming out as she’d planned. She felt stupid being a middle-class young woman, not fitting in with these strange people who she wanted so desperately to be accepted by.

“We’ve got a lot of people to feed, Trixie.” The platinum blonde raised her brows before inching closer to her. Her fingertips ran along the edges of the name tag that simply read ‘ _Trixie_ ’, the I’s dotted with love hearts. 

The closeness caused her to hold her breath for a moment, intriguing her with Katya’s forwardness. 

“Kitty Cat, see if there’s any more of those burgers we got last week.” One of the strangers spoke up as they made their way past Trixie to the dumpsters. Juju was first to dive in, hitching her skirt as she did so. Kitty followed suit as per her instruction.

The scene playing out before Trixie was shocking to say the least – these people couldn’t afford to feed their ‘family’, so this is the extent they went to.

“Wait,” The golden blonde spoke up. Katya stopped mid nicotine inhale. “I can get you proper food.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with what you’re throwing out.” Juju nodded, lifting up an unopened loaf of bread that was only a couple of days past its ‘use by’ date.

“You can come in and eat,” Trixie nodded, biting down on her lower lip momentarily. “Don’t worry about paying, I’ll sort it out. You can get a meal each, bring the leftovers back with you.”

It had crossed her mind that maybe she was too good-hearted and should be slightly more street smart about these people. But regardless, she wanted to help, and there was an inkling inside of her that just wanted this Katya woman to like her, or better yet, trust her.

Juju stopped in her tracks, Kitty Cat too, almost astounded by Trixie’s offer. Part of her was unsure how she’d be able to pull it off, considering she’d never even tried anything like it with her boss.

Katya discarded her hand rolled cigarette away from her bare feet. She stayed close to Trixie, placing her hand on her heart. 

“Jamison thanks you,” She smiled. “I’m sure he feels your high vibration, the family is going to be so grateful.”

She still had absolutely no clue who this Jamison character was, she just wanted to make sure Katya and these girls had what they needed. Trixie had the innate desire to be around them, but it was diluted with a strange sense of pity she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She always had a knack for hospitality and ensuring people felt comfortable around her, but this was different.

“Go ‘round to the front door, you’ll be seated. I’ll take care of everything else.”

They skipped, some hand-in-hand around to the entrance before Trixie made her way back through past the kitchen to the bar countertops where people were settled, and drink orders were being prepared. She made a beeline for her boss, Biff, who was fixing a strawberry milkshake for a customer. The girls had already been assigned a booth by the hostess. 

“Biff, I have a favour to ask,” She began, and he only cocked his eyebrow in reply. His greasy mouse brown hair was smoothed over into a left parting, sweat beginning to drip down his forehead from the heat. “That table over there,” She nodded in the direction of her newfound friends. “Lunch is on me. Take it out of my paycheck.”

“I don’t think so, Trixie,” His tone was abrupt. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Why not? I’m sure you’ve let Garrett’s friends do that before.” It was no coincidence that the male servers who worked here managed to get away with a lot more than the women did. Trixie had once been reprimanded for wearing a pink ribbon in her ponytail rather than white, despite it matching the uniform.

“Yes, but Garrett has been here much longer than you have.” Biff attempted to reason with her.

“…he started a month before I did.” She placed her hand on her hip, her right fingertips reaching for a small pad and pencil from the apron of her skirt.

“Precisely,” He smirked. “They better pay up, otherwise your time here is up, Trixie. Don’t go behind my back like that again.”

“Yes sir.” She knew she didn’t even have the funds in her purse to pay for all four of them, but she had to at least act as if she had gotten the approval from her manager – after all, she’d made them a promise and it was too late to back out now.

Biting her tongue, she wandered through the clearing of tables to the familiar group who were in awe of the large laminated menus and the extensive list of options available to them. Withholding the information, she opened up her notepad.

“What can I get you today?”

Katya set down her menu, rested her elbows on the table, whimsically settling her chin atop as her eyes peered up at Trixie. She could feel her stare burning her features, as she listened to the droning orders from the other women. Even as she wrote down the food items, the platinum blonde didn’t falter.

“And for you, blondie?” She asked, and the woman chewed her lip, failing to suppress a grin.

“What’s good here?” Katya asked, raising her brows.

“I just usually order a serve of fries and a thickshake.” Trixie pouted. “But that’s not really a _meal_.”

“What flavour?” Katya still couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

“Vanilla…but well, they have to be eaten a certain way.” She cringed slightly at her admission. “You have to dip the fries into the thickshake.”

Finally, the woman’s eyes inched down Trixie’s figure, and then back up to reconnect their eye contact. 

“I’ll try anything once.” She said, and the order was taken down.

* * *

The group of girls had been chattering away whilst Trixie cleared other tables, serving regulars and dropping tips into the communal kitty. Biff lifted a tray on to the counter with a glass bottle of Coke, two orange juices and one vanilla thickshake accompanied by a straw wide enough to actually consume it.

He pulsed the service bell, catching Trixie’s attention. She picked the tray up with ease, despite its weight, balancing it in the palm of her hand as she made her way over to the familiar faces. After distributing three of the beverages, she set down the thickshake before Katya who ogled the small mountain of whipped cream on top, adorned with a maraschino cherry that glistened invitingly.

“Of course someone like you would drink something like this,” The platinum blonde winked, before abruptly reaching for Trixie’s wrist. “Come back to the ranch with us.”

The girl nicknamed ‘Kitty Cat’ adjusted against the vinyl seat, tucking her legs underneath her as she basically bounced with excitement. Her messy black curls danced against her sun kissed skin with each movement.

“You would love it,” She ushered. “Tonight’s campfire night. We listen to Jamie sing and play guitar. He gives us LSD, so it opens our consciousness and helps us to connect with our higher self.”

All she truly had to do was mention that particular instrument and Trixie was sold on the idea. She’d taken LSD only once before – considering it a rift in her own judgement when she was out at a party. The night sky melted before her into a beautiful sunrise, but in all honesty, she just didn’t exactly know where to procure acid. It was strange how these events were playing out, especially after her mother had given her guidance on similar new age topics.

Maybe she was kidding herself but to her it felt as though the stars were truly aligning for her to reach her peak in life. 

“I’d love to,” She admitted with a solemn smile. “But I don’t finish for another four hours.”

Two of the girls groaned, Katya now pouting. Although Trixie had been called ‘Barbie’ by her mother, there was no denying that this woman, too, had a doll-like quality about her that was much grungier than her own. She was entrancing.

“That’s such a bummer.” Katya sighed with wishful thinking.

“We would’ve loved to have had everyone thank you for your kindness today.” Juju nodded. 

“Maybe another time.” Trixie reasoned with a sympathetic smile that seemed to lift their spirits somewhat with the prospect that they’d all see each other again. It warmed her heart to expect the same, too. “Your meals will be out shortly, okay?”

Only ten or so minutes later, she had delivered lunch to the table. Although the diner was filling up, and Trixie was busy with orders for multiple customers, she snuck a glance at the table of women she had taken care of. They were happily eating their burgers, whilst she noticed Katya dipping one chip after another into her thickshake, after Trixie’s recommendation. The sight brought a smile to her lips as she flicked on the coffee machine, brewing another jug ready to go for those who had free refills of liquid adrenaline.

Not long after when they had finished what they had, and packed up the rest in containers, Trixie took the check to Biff. 

“It’s not much, really, I can pay half now and you can deduct the other amount from my wages.” She was nonchalant about it, as if he had already approved this prior, despite the exact opposite happening. Trixie wasn’t good with conflict. Rushing to the back room, she grabbed her purse and all the money that was left before carting it out onto the tray. “See, not much left at all.”

“Trixie, you’re fired.” He took the money regardless.

“What?”

“You went against my word, and as an employee that is unacceptable.” He was bitter, but there was a certain surge of power in his tone that twisted Trixie’s stomach, as if this was the kind of thing he got off on.

“Biff, you can’t do that please,” She begged, her doe eyes wide and nearly on the brink of tears. “I really need the money. I have rent due next week.”

Whilst the two were discussing her fate, the girls finessed their way out of the diner, assuring the hostess that Trixie was going to pay for their meals. 

“Tough, toots. I’m your boss for a reason, you women really need to be kept in check, you know that?” His smirk had turned into a shit-eating grin as he feasted over the evident dominion he held over Trixie.

The comment took her aback, her eyes widening as it sunk in. Some men could be real pigs, she knew that. Although society was becoming more and more liberal, there were little intricacies from men that had passively weaved their way through. She’d had enough. Her genitalia didn’t make her any less of a human.

“Hey Biff?” She slammed her pad and pencil down on the cheap counter before rushing to undo her apron. He gave her a glance. “I hope you take this fucking name tag and shove it up your ass.” She ripped the small piece of plastic off of her bust, setting it down with the rest of the items she’d discarded. His facial features had turned to shock, and she launched a wad of her own spit directly in his face before she made a run for the door of the diner.

“Hey, wait up!” Trixie chased after the girls who were piling into the kombi van that Trixie had seen prior. Her legs carried her as fast as they could, especially now noticing that Biff was chasing on her tail across the parking lot. The adrenaline of not wanting to get caught began coursing through her veins. 

“You fucking bitch!” She heard Biff yell from behind her, the distance between them wearing thin.

The girls kept the sliding door open, Katya holding her hand out as Willam fired up the engine with a simple twist of the car key in the ignition. Trixie leapt in, grasping the platinum blonde’s hand for dear life. They slammed the door shut, right in Biff’s face as he came to a halt. His palms bashed manically against the glass of the window, and as Willam’s foot hit the gas pedal, Trixie raised her middle finger up to the glass just in time for him to see.

The girls keeled over in laughter, laying back against the throw blankets, beanbags and splay of old Playboy magazines that scattered the van. 

“You flaked?” Katya’s eyes lit up, their fingers interlocking sweetly. 

The golden blonde revelled in her tight grip, desperate to be carted far away from the shithole she used to call her premises of employment.

“I got fired.” Trixie pouted slightly.

“Radical men and their egos.” Willam groaned from the front seat. “They feel hard done by because a few women ate food without paying.”

“Maybe he felt threatened by y’all.” Trixie shrugged, crossing her legs like a child in a classroom at school, facing her newfound friends.

Katya turned over their hands, the honey blonde’s palm now face up in her digits. She traced over the lines there, humming a sugary tune that slowed Trixie’s heart rate to a normal rhythm after that event. It was as if she was reading everything about her past, present, and future within the lines on her hand – though she doubted this woman was some kind of fortune teller. Maybe she was just so aligned with the universe that she could understand Trixie already.

“I’m in awe of you.” Katya murmured, her glassy hues scanning up from her hand to Trixie’s dark amber eyes that melted in the sunlight cracking through the window. “You don’t need him. You don’t need any of them. We’re your family now.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss between the woman’s brows, a sign of connection but also comfort.

Trixie was unsure of what she was getting herself into. They seemed like nice enough people, their thoughts were the epitome of counterculture, but the love in their hearts was palpable just by the way they carried themselves. Self-proclaimed hippies who rejected what was expected of them. She respected their tenacity of spirit.

There was never a shortage of love that others showed her; her parents adored her, her past relationships had ended amicably, and she was learning to love herself deeply. However, all of that seemed futile compared to the surge that Katya projected. All of these girls made her feel at home, but there was something so special about the woman in front of her, and she so desperately wanted to explore every facet of her persona.

The girls chirped away about Jamison, informing Trixie about his beliefs. It was definitely on the same wavelength as the information her mother had harped on about on the phone in regard to crystals. It was almost as if she had been led on the right path, somehow convincing herself that this moment of running away had sought her mother’s approval.

“He’s like the expert of all humankind,” Kitty Cat toyed with her own dark locks that she had adjusted into two loose pigtails. “Shows you how you can detach from your ego because, you see, you are not yourself. You’re a culmination of what your parents taught you, and what society has told you to be.”

“It’s a fucked-up system,” Juju added. “Conservative pigs acting as though they know how to run a civilisation when they barely know how to run a business. We’re people, we have hearts, we’re not for government profit or gain.”

The more they said, the more it made sense to Trixie.

“We work from what’s within,” Katya placed her hand on her own chest, over her heart. “We work in the Now. We don’t have watches at the ranch, or calendars. We gave up our birthdays. None of that matters. We’re all equal there.”

“Jamison makes sure we have what we need, and in return we just love him, and love each other.” Willam added.

“You gave up your birthdays?” Trixie’s tone was somewhat sad, a slight frown turning the corners of her lips downwards.

Katya laughed gently, rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand.

“It’s not so bad,” She assured her. “You just sort of forget.”

“You’ll see tonight, Trixie.” Kitty Cat smiled, taking her left hand that was free of contact. “It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.”


End file.
